


Cuts, bruises and cigarettes

by orphan_account



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Abusive John Watson, Abusive Relationships, Bottom Sherlock Holmes, Hurt Sherlock Holmes, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Sherlock Holmes Needs a Hug, pretty graphic description of violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-24
Updated: 2020-02-24
Packaged: 2021-02-28 07:07:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,098
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22879987
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Something was off about Sherlock. But Greg couldn't quite figure out what. Something was just... wrong. Sherlock was too flinchy, too apologetic, and definitely too timid. But Greg would figure out what was wrong, because he cared about Sherlock. He was his friend, even though Sherlock wouldn't admit it.(Or; Sherlock is in an abusive relationship with John Watson. This is my first work (like, ever) so i hope it's ok!)
Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/Greg Lestrade, Sherlock Holmes/John Watson
Comments: 32
Kudos: 71





	Cuts, bruises and cigarettes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh goddamn it, you crazy sons of bitches did it. My motivation has returned and I am going to write the hell out of this fic. Thank everyone for the amazing support :)
> 
> I'm just starting all over again, babey!!!
> 
> Also, beta reading?? Who is she.

Sherlock loved John.

He truly did.

But the case sounded so interesting over the phone, and Sherlock could never resist an intriguing case. He knew John would be cross with him for leaving the apartment without permission, but seriously. A janitor found dead in the blood-covered basement of an elementary school, missing both her hands? He had to know what was going on. So he flagged down a cab and went to the crime scene. When he arrived the case turned out to be quite disappointing. It was obvious that one of the teachers was having an affair with the janitor, freaked out, and killed her. She then cut off the hands in a crude attempt to hide the identity of the victim. Pathetic, really. 

The husband of the teacher in question, who was the P.E. teacher at the school, wasn't too happy with the news. After Sherlock told him what had happened, the man had gone off in a long tirade about the faithfulness of his wife. Sherlock had quickly deduced why he was incorrect and got punched in the face. 

Unfortunately, the man used to be a kickboxer and packed quite a punch. 

‘Jesus, Sherlock. Are you alright, mate?’ Lestrade held the dark-haired man in his arms and slowly lifted him. ‘That was one hell of a punch.’ Sherlock simply groaned and leaned into his arms, on the verge of passing out. Greg noticed that Sherlock was surprisingly light. The man had never been very bulky, but this was worse than he’d ever seen him. Now that he was thinking about it, he could feel his ribs. But Greg was suddenly ripped out of his thoughts when a harsh voice yelled out. 

‘Sherlock? What the hell is going on?’ The man in his arms immediately stiffened up and jumped to his feet. ‘John! I-’ He began. But the doctor marched towards him and grabbed his arm. He then turned towards Greg. ‘Lestrade. What the hell happened?’ Greg noticed the anger in his eyes and fumbled to explain himself; ‘Oh! John! Uh, this guy was quite pissed when Sherlock told him his wife was, eh, cheating on him and punched him.’ John looked at Sherlock, who was still not steady on his feet. ‘Is this true?’ Sherlock looked up. ‘Ye- yes. It’s true.’ 

The grey-haired man looked doubtful but nodded. ‘Alright, let's get you home. I’m going to take a look at you and make sure you’re okay.’ He put his arm around Sherlock’s shoulders and helped him to a cab. While they were walking away, John turned his head around and shot an angry look at Greg. ‘It’s not like I could’ve done something about it.’ he mused. He shook his head and walked to his car. 

The ride home was a silent one. Sherlock knew John was mad. He knew why John was mad. When the cab arrived at 221b Baker Street, they still hadn't exchanged a single word. He knew that would change once they set foot into their living room. He was right. Of course he was right, he was always right. But this time he didn't feel the usual triumph. Instead, he just felt dread.

'Sherlock.' The doctor sat down in his chair and looked at him. Sherlock tried to speak; 'John, I-', but the older man silenced him with a simple stare. 'First, you leave the house without permission. Then you do not tell me where you are, and to make matters even worse, when I showed up, I found you in the arms of another man. Don't even try to explain yourself. You deserve to get punished.' 

Sherlock knew this would happen. He did it to himself, he deserved it. So he quickly shrugged off his coat and unbuttoned his shirt. He then kneeled, with his back turned to John. 'I don't want to do this, sweetheart. You force me to.' Sherlock heard the distinct sound of a belt being unbuckled and pulled off. He braced for the impact, which came swiftly. Through gritted teeth, he counted. 'One.' Slap. 'Two.' Slap. 'Three.' Slap. He didn't know how many there were going to be, and it didn't matter. 'Ten.' Slap. 'Fourteen.' He didn't know how long he was going to be here, but that didn't matter either. If he looked at the clock, the punishment was only going to be longer. 'Twenty-two.' Slap. 'Twenty-five.' 

Silence. Sherlock waited for the next hit, but it never came. Instead, he felt a calloused hand on his neck. 'Turn around.' He did. When he met John's intense gaze, he almost looked away. 'You know why I had to do this, didn't you?' The doctor asked him. Sherlock nodded. He knew why, and he deserved it. 'But this is not over. That was only the punishment for you leaving without telling me. You did something much worse. Do you know what you did?' Sherlock nodded again. 'Use your words.' Sherlock cleared his throat and spoke. 'I touched another man.' John looked at him with disgust. 'Did you, now? Am I not enough for you, you brat? I give you, an unlovable, stupid creature everything you need, but it's still not enough. God, you're pathetic.' Sherlock's eyes widened. 'No! That's not- I...' but John silenced him with a slap to his cheek. 'Shut it. You don't deserve to speak, you ungrateful bitch.' 

He slapped him again. Then, he lifted the younger man and pushed him against the table. John grabbed his left arm and pushed it on the table, arm hanging off just below the elbow. And he pushed. Hard. Sherlock's arm protested at the unnatural position, but he didn't let a sound out. He knew what would happen if he did, and it would be even worse. 'Are you not even going to apologize? You should apologize to Lestrade, for making him touch such a disgusting creature like you. Shouldn't you? Speak up!' Tears started to run down Sherlock's face. God, he was pathetic. 'I- I'm sorry, John. I didn't m-mean to!' He spoke through his sobs. 'I'm pathetic and I- I shouldn't bother anyone.' But John wasn't satisfied with the apology and pressed even harder. Sherlock cried out of shock and immediately slapped his free hand over his mouth. Fuck.

'What was that, you whiny bitch? Can't even handle the punishment you deserve?' Sherlock heard a crack and a pain shot through his left arm. 

The next day Sherlock showed up with his arm in a sling. When Greg asked what happened, Sherlock simply shrugged and told him it was none of his business.


End file.
